


First Kiss

by Moorishflower



Series: A Cold Academic Hell [19]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-02
Updated: 2011-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:44:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moorishflower/pseuds/Moorishflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their first kiss is one of those weird things where it's good, perfect even, but it happens completely out of the blue. Part of the Cold Academic Hell 'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Kiss

They’re in Castiel’s cubicle when it happens. Dean’s in-between classes, and Castiel doesn’t have his break for another half-hour, but he doesn’t have any appointments, either, and he’d texted Dean, _I am free right now_. Even Castiel’s texts are sort of awkward and stilted, but Dean likes them all the same. They have the same prissy “please use proper grammar and spelling” feel that Sam’s do. He finds that kind of funny and kind of weird at the same time.

But, they’re in Castiel’s cubicle. No one else is around – Gabriel, Castiel says, is having an early lunch, and the other advisors are busy filing paperwork, and the secretaries and doing whatever it is that secretaries do. He says that, sounding disgruntled, which makes Dean think that the secretaries aren’t doing what _he_ thinks they should do. He finds that funny, too. And a little bit cute. Not that he’d ever be caught dead calling something – or someone – _cute_ , but the feeling’s there.

And then Castiel says, “Perhaps you should return to class,” and Dean leans forward, wanting to reassure Castiel that he doesn’t have class for another fifteen minutes, and the building he’s in is right next door, it won’t even take him that much time to get over there. But Castiel leans forward too, and suddenly they aren’t just leaning, they’re leaning _towards_ each other. The corner of Castiel’s desk catches against Dean’s side, sharp and uncomfortable, but not a deterrent. Castiel’s eyes are so, so blue. You could write poetry about those eyes, a whole book of poetry. All the things that Castiel’s eyes remind him of: the sky at midday, the ocean just when the sun is beginning to rise, cornflowers, the flame of a lighter as it first flares up, the topcoat of a Thunderbird he’d seen the other day, gleaming like a star beneath the evening sun…

“Class,” Castiel says weakly, licking his lips, and Dean makes a soft, watery noise, silencing him. There could be a million people watching them and he doesn’t think he’d notice. The sun could explode and Dean wouldn’t care, because Castiel’s lips touch his and they are chapped, and slightly wet. His eyes flutter shut, but Dean keeps his eyes open, cataloguing the flutter of Castiel’s eyelashes and the soft huff of his breath as they separate, barely a kiss at all.

Castiel’s eyes open. He looks breathless, dazed. His cheeks are red.

“Oh,” he says. Dean nods. “That was…”

“Yeah,” Dean says, and then leans forward again, and seals their mouths together. Castiel breathes deep against him, sucking the air from Dean’s lungs and then returning it in kind. When they part again, Castiel’s lips are dark pink and swollen and tempting. Dean feels as though he’s just run a mile.

“We need to do that again,” he says, and Castiel nods dumbly.


End file.
